


The Prince and I

by JakkuCrew (fromstars)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Costumes, M/M, Prince Ben Solo, Sneaking Out, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromstars/pseuds/JakkuCrew
Summary: Prompt: Ben is the galactically famous beautiful and grumpy young Senator of Naboo and Alderaan royalty. He is forced by tradition to wear royal makeup and elaborate hair styles and clothes whenever he is on Hosnian Prime. Ben's longest family friend, Poe, sneaks him out of the senate at night by dressing Ben as a refugee so they can visit the dangerous Hosnian Prime club scenes. Ben is glad to escape his strict senate life whenever Poe shows up to smuggle Ben to freedom. Sometimes Leia is not on Hosnian Prime so they get to enjoy the luxurious Senator apartment suite all to themselves.





	The Prince and I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaylo_ben](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaylo_ben/gifts).



> I took a fewwww liberties with the specifics of the prompt, but I love writing about costumes and probably spent way too much time imagining what Ben wears all the time. I might post my costume references later. :) I really hope you like this!!

They find themselves retreading the same stolen moments.

"Help me get this off," Ben says, exasperation filling his voice. He doesn't bother to wait for Poe to climb the wall of his balcony, sneaking into the third story of the Alderaanian embassy apartments. Instead Ben strides purposefully away from Poe and his slick escape speeder - gesturing in annoyance at the elaborate belt knotted at the back of his waist.

"This entire outfit is impossible to put on or remove,” the prince adds, pausing as Poe's footsteps catch up to pace behind him.

"I imagine that's what servants are for," Poe replies, feeling amused. He dumps a duffle on the floor, and then takes a good look at Ben. It’s been weeks since he’s been able to see his childhood friend, and each time Poe returns, he is surprised by the decadence of Ben’s clothing. The outfit is beyond intricate - while it's cold on Hosnian Prime right now, the coat looks heavy enough that Ben must be overheated under it. The fabric is a deep-sea green that is cut so finely that the fine wool seems to move as easily as Ben does. Beneath, Poe admires the intricacy of an outfit style that he can't quite recognize: a diagonal neckline, soft silk drapery that cascades over trim dark pants, and more delicate embroidery than Poe knows what to do with. It's beautiful.

And almost comical.

Poe bites back a smile, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "You're supposed to be dressed and undressed by your helpers, you know," he says, finding his hands at Ben's waist, fingers skimming across the knot work of the belt.

"I'm a prince," Ben retorts, "Not an invalid child."

"Of course, your highness," Poe laughs, slowly undoing the belt's ties. “…You know, I don't recognize this. It's not like your other Alderaanian clothes." He remarks, catching a belt ornament in his palm. Naboo pearls and Gungan water rubies dangle from the end of the fine chains. Poe pauses to admire the heavy weight of the cloud-grey stone tied to the ornament’s top, tracing his fingers over the grooves of the medallion’s carving. He knows well enough without asking that the stone is from Alderaan, or at the very least, from its graveyard remnants.

Poe wraps the chain carefully around his wrist. He considers telling Ben the truth - that it’s far too literal to carry the weight of Alderaan with him like this - but it won’t be worth the argument. Ben does it to prove he’s serious, no matter how disgruntled he is by the demands of being royalty, or how annoyed he gets with political theater in the New Republic. It’s understandable. It’s part of why he finds himself so magentized by Ben.

“Oh," Ben murmurs, "It's new. Obviously."

"Obviously," Poe agrees.

"-There used to be an Alderaanian outpost on Naboo," Ben explains in a roundabout way, shifting his weight as Poe slips the belt away from his coat. "When they were recruited to leave for New Alderaan, they brought along their unique fashions. Things preserved there on Naboo that we might've otherwise lost."

"I see," Poe says, draping the belt over the back of a chair in Ben's room. He sets the belt ornament gently into a lined box that sits on Ben’s desk. "So this is...one of those outfits?"

"Yes," Ben grimaces, pushing off the heavy coat. "It's lovely, but it's a pain to take off."

"Worth it for what's underneath," Poe teases.

Ben turns around, before unceremoniously dumping the coat in the seat of his chair. “Don’t be a smartass,” Ben warns, a frown furrowing his brow. “I told you we’re going out tonight.”

“Are we going to be able to leave here before sunrise?” Poe asks, with an amused gesture to the remaining layers of Ben’s clothes, and the headpiece he hasn’t quite figured out yet. “You’re still taking things off,” he notes, watching as Ben loosens his tunic. The light of the room catches, and the Gungan water-silk of Ben’s shirt shimmers like Naboo’s seas under sunlight.

Ben squints at him. “Just show me the clothes you brought for me,” he demands with a pointed tug at one of the golden pins slipped through his dark hair. Poe bites his lip, hesitating long enough to watch as the hairpiece separates from Ben’s real braids. The braids brush over the nape of Ben’s neck, and Poe leans in, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss a spot just above Ben’s high collar, catching the hairpiece in his free hand.

“You can’t complain about the outfit I brought you this time,” Poe warns, leaning away to reach for the bag he brought with him.

The warning never stops Ben.

* * *

  
Poe has no problem appearing nondescript — it’s the acting nondescript that gives him trouble. He’s too confident to go unnoticed; he swaggers too much like the cocky pilot he is. When they slip away into the questionable neighborhoods of Hosnian Prime, Poe forgets to act uneasy or self-absorbed like the other denizens of the capital’s underworld. But he looks ordinary in his heavy racer pants and faded black shirt that frames his exposed collarbone with a deep vee — which is more than can be said for Ben.

Ben, on the other hand, never looks nondescript, no matter what he’s wearing. Even in the dark of the cantina, his presence is striking. And no matter how hard Poe tries, Ben’s change of outfit only makes him look more like a prince of an organized crime family in hiding, rather than the ruler of an entire planet. He’s too tall to blend in like Poe does, too massive to go unnoticed. But Poe aims for just enough distraction in Ben’s escape outfits to prevent recognition - something that can’t be placed as entirely criminal or entirely off-worlder.

They try to look like they belong about as much as any other drifter and scoundrel would. Poe had found a refugee family that was willing to sell him an old shirt large enough for Ben, plus several utility belts for his generous offer of twice the credits they were worth. The shirt is so worn it’s soft, and Poe admires how well made it is, a hot red that peeks through the sharp angles of the scaled black coat Ben wears over it. Poe keeps his a blaster at his side — nothing navy issued, but instead something gifted as personal thanks for an old favor. In contrast, Ben wears at least two blasters holstered to his layered belts, and a third holster holding a slick pommel that Poe recognizes as the lightsaber Ben usually keeps hidden on his person. Not that anyone would recognize it. Even up close, the saber hilt looks similar to a stunner, or an electrical override device.

Poe looks like he’d rather avoid any fights, and Ben looks like he expects them and intends to win.

Of the two expectations, Poe’s attitude usually wins.

Two hours after sneaking out of the Alderaanian consulate apartments, they’re pressed in by throngs of dancers in the cantina — sweat and thick body heat clinging to them with hot energy and sweetened by alcohol. People push in closer as the rhythm picks up pace, and Ben wraps his arms around Poe’s waist protectively. He’s convinced that someone might try to pickpocket while they’re out. Poe knows a hold up is more likely to happen outside the club, in a bid to steal the black volcanic metal bracers Ben wears over his sleeves, or the Alderaanian opal that is inset at the notch of Ben’s collar-piece. But Poe doesn’t bother to argue with the reasons why Ben pulls him close to his chest, because he’s just drunk enough to not care.

He doesn’t have that many credits on him anyways, and neither of them are stupid enough to carry a legitimate ID with them while sneaking out. Poe presses close, tilting his head up to meet Ben halfway as he murmurs into Poe’s ear.

“There’s a togruta who keeps checking you out,” Ben says, barely audible over the music. Poe laughs breathlessly, shivering as Ben presses a small kiss to his jaw. The laughter makes Ben pause, calculating whether or not Poe is laughing at him, or his possessiveness, or the togruta man watching the fluid motion of Poe’s hips as he dances. He nuzzles his nose against Poe’s cheek thoughtfully, with a soft huff of feigned indignation.

“Jealous?” Poe asks, drawing his hands up to the jaw-guard Ben is wearing. The red-black metal is cool to the touch, ending just underneath his ears and slashing under Ben’s high cheekbones. The gesture brings Ben’s gaze down to meet Poe’s; dark eyes flashing with his next lie —

“—hardly,” Ben scoffs, before letting Poe pull him in to a heady kiss. The pulse of music thrums under Poe’s skin as loudly as his desire does, and he grins when Ben nips at his bottom lip.

It doesn’t take long for them to devolve into charged kisses. Poe’s hands twist into the fabric of Ben’s jacket, and Ben grips urgently at Poe’s hips, hungry for more than the dance floor will afford them.

* * *

  
Leaving the Alderaanian consulate on Hosnian Prime is always easier than returning to it undetected.

Sober, Poe finds it easy to muffle his speeder engines and swoop down to Ben’s open balcony without drawing the attention of the senate security. Tipsy, Ben and Poe keep their auto-flight low to the black streets, parking in an alleyway beyond the walls of the embassy. It’s Ben who gets them back onto the fortified grounds, fighting off the gnawing urge to forget subterfuge and push Poe roughly into an abandoned enclave. They’ve done it before — relying mostly on Ben’s force sensitivity to go unnoticed and avoid the guards making their rounds — but it requires more control than either of them want to have.

Tonight, the air is cold and damp, and more than anything Poe wants to wrap himself around Ben in the warmth of his bed. Poe follows Ben like a shadow, slinking to the back entry of the building. At the gate, Ben pauses to override their access with an illegal key chip that he’d built when back when they were teenagers. It’s possible to get back into the building without hacking the entry codes, but using the bioscanners alerts people to Ben’s comings and goings and makes them too conspicuous.

The gate opens with a pressurized hiss and they slip back onto the grounds, moving quickly through the embassy’s gardens and towards the palatial apartments. Inside the building, they sequester themselves in the elevator, and Ben hastily pushes the number to his floor. For a fleeting moment, they return to kissing, unwilling to wait until they reach the third floor. Poe slides his palm over Ben’s ass, and Ben steps to box Poe into the corner of the elevator, pressing close.

“Remember last time?” Poe purrs, rocking his hips against Ben suggestively.

“Can’t forget,” Ben gasps, hands finding purchase at Poe’s waist. They’d been urgent just like this; Poe had hit the override on the elevator breaks and dropped to his knees, working Ben over until he came hard, the prince pulling at Poe’s thick curls appreciatively.

The memory makes Poe smirk.

“Good,” Poe says, using his free hand to undo Ben’s black jacket, revealing the half-buttoned red shirt beneath. He trails his hand up the planes of Ben’s chest, stopping at his collar to slide the Alderaanian opal from its latch setting. The stone gleams, reflecting a sliver of light against Ben’s exposed pale skin that Poe is tempted to trace with his tongue. Ben exhales and Poe inhales, mesmerized until the elevator stops and Ben becomes dimly aware that the doors have slid open to his apartment floor.

“Bed,” Ben demands, pulling Poe towards the doors.

“Yes,” Poe gasps, following Ben’s lead. Back in the privacy of Ben’s rooms, they begin frantically shedding layers of clothing. Ben’s scaled jacket hits the floor with a thud, followed by the jangle of his belts and blasters. The jaw guard is next, removed with a push of a button and placed haphazardly onto an end table. Shoes are kicked aside, and Poe kisses the sharp edge of Ben’s collarbone as he tugs the prince’s pants down over his hips. Ben makes a minute gesture with his hand, using the force to help Poe strip before pulling his own shirt over his head. Poe slips a knee between Ben’s legs and backs him against his bed with a pointed nudge. The move makes Ben moan, and he drops back onto the mattress, sprawling over his bedsheets.

Poe follows suite, straddling Ben as he settles onto the bed. For a moment, they adjust to the new equilibrium, before Poe shifts and presses an open mouthed kiss to the patch of skin just above the band of Ben’s underwear. Ben lets out a soft hiss, shivering as Poe peels off his underwear before playfully biting the inside of Ben’s thigh.

“Poe,” Ben murmurs, his voice thick, “Need you,” he says, reaching to run his hands through Poe’s luscious brown curls. The sensation is one that makes Poe melt without fail, and he leans up into Ben’s touch, moving to kiss him.

“I’m here,” Poe assures him, reaching handily for Ben’s nightstand. The drawer opens before Poe can even grasp the handle, and he stifles a laugh over the ways in which Ben chooses to use his force abilities in private. “—impatient,” Poe chides. Ben huffs, arching suggestively as Poe palms the bottle of lube and begins to cover his fingers.

“Please,” Ben drawls, shoving a pillow under his hips, “You know I waste all my patience in the senate.”

“I didn’t know you had any patience to lose,” Poe laughs, before obliging Ben with a teasing circle of his fingers, slick against his ass. It doesn’t make Ben any more patient, and he pushes into Poe’s hands, demanding the tempting edge of pressure against his prostate. The slide is easy — Ben relaxes more under Poe’s touch than he does his own — and Poe twists his fingers up with a firm stroke that causes Ben to cry out. As a prince, Ben is often aloof at best, and snappish at worst. But under his hands, at Poe’s mercy, Ben is a tempest of raw passion that slips under his skin in electric tides.

Poe doesn’t slow his strokes until a fat bead of precum swells at the head of Ben’s cock, sticky and tantalizing. The slowed movement pulls a low whine from Ben, and Poe shifts on his knees, withdrawing his fingers from Ben with a soft twist.

“Poe,” Ben manages, dark eyes narrowing at him. He looks somewhere between annoyed and ravenous, and Poe leans in.

“I need you too,” Poe assures him, a steady palm at Ben’s hip. With a dip of his head, Poe moves to catch the pearl of Ben’s precum on the flat of his tongue. He tastes salt and sweat, and Ben arches up, eager for the heat of Poe’s mouth. But it doesn’t last long — Poe wants as much as Ben does, and he reaches for the bottle of lube again, intent on making good on his promises.

Poe is careful when he sinks into Ben, but Ben rolls his hips and takes Poe to the hilt with a shudder of pleasure.

“Maker,” Poe moans, fingers pressing into Ben’s sides, the press of his his nails leaving small half-moons imprinted in his skin. They leave little marks whenever they can — teeth biting at flesh or Ben’s lip paints smeared against Poe’s skin, nails dragged down Poe’s back and twisted into Ben’s hips. Desire gets traced into skin and memories will linger where Ben sucks a bruise into Poe’s shoulder, tracing his tongue over the sensitive skin. Poe fucks Ben at a steady pace, unrelenting and carnal, until they both begin to unravel — Poe gasping with pleasure and Ben trembling beneath him, Poe fisting his cock and stroking him to climax. Ben’s orgasm hits first, hot come spilling over Poe’s hand as Ben shakes, gasping as Poe follows him with a half-stifled groan and quick, deep thrusts. The drag of Poe’s thick cock inside him sends another jolt through Ben, overstimulated and blinded with pleasure as the friction wrings another spurt of come from him.

Overwhelmed with sensation, they finish breathless and exhausted, and Poe pulls away just enough to collapse beside Ben on the pillows. Although neither of them say anything right away, they’ve been together too long to not understand each inhale and each sigh. Poe’s breath hitches with unspoken laughter, and Ben snorts in wordless response. After a few moments, they shamelessly borrow Ben’s face cloths to clean up, and Ben nuzzles into the crook of Poe’s neck with a sedated exhale.

They find themselves calling stolen moments old habits, and Poe falls asleep once more at his prince’s side.


End file.
